Historical Memories
by Sami-Fire
Summary: After World War II, Germany and Prussia discuss the past.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

Author's Notes:

...Whew. Writing this fic was EXHAUSTING. This thing took me... hm, I'd say two weeks to write, maybe a little longer? Yikes. The research and factchecking (if there's still something wrong after all this I'll throw a tank at something) was a lot of work... Either way, I think my work paid off. This fic is probably one of the best pieces I've written. It's also the LONGEST piece I've ever written, measuring roughly 24/25 pages in Word, smashing my previous record of 17 pages to bits. I'm not sure... I'm actually having difficulty finding things wrong with this fic for a change, other than Prussia being just a touch too soft. Ah, well. Read it (AAAALLLL OF IT) and make your own judgment. AND DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW! Thanks in advance!

* * *

It was 1945. World War II had ended, the Allies had set about partitioning Germany…

And two brothers sat on a porch, drinking beer and watching the sun set.

These brothers were none other than Ludwig and Gilbert Beilschmidt, the faces of Germany and Prussia respectively. They had been silent for some time now, but Gilbert was the one to break the silence.

"Man, I can't believe we lost after all that."

Ludwig set his beer down and glared at his brother, more out of frustration than anger. "Don't even talk to me about that."

"Don't worry about it. I don't plan to." There was another lengthy silence, followed by another interruption from Gilbert. He took a drink and said, "Hey, with the way things are changing around here… I've been thinking about some things, West."

Ludwig, still feeling a little sore (both figuratively and literally) over the division of his country, growled a quick "About what?" before turning his attention to his own beer.

"You know… back when you were just a kid…" _Back when I kicked ass and some young upstarts who weren't even on our continent couldn't say anything about it,_ Gilbert added in his head, also noting that he sounded very much like a bitter old fart. Well, compared to most of the nations he was walking around with today, he was a bitter old fart, but what did that matter?

Ludwig put his head in his hands. "Not this again…" Gilbert had a tendency to tell this story every single time he got drunk with him. It made for an interesting conversation the first few times, but by now it was redundant.

Naturally, his brother wasn't going to let him just push him aside like that. "Yes, this again! And this time, you're actually going to sit back and listen to it, dammit!"

"It's not like I haven't paid attention the five hundred other times you've told me the story of my own life. I think I can remember most of the details by myself." Ludwig punctuated his remark with an irritable sigh.

It was at this moment that Ludwig noticed that Gilbert was acting a little weird tonight. It might have just been the beer talking, but there was definitely something different in the tone of his voice. There seemed to be almost a hint of panic in his words. What could possibly be bothering Gilbert, of all people? "No, West. You _will_ listen this time. C'mon, West! Do it for your big brother!"

Truth be told, Ludwig was always somewhat weak to the "do it for your brother" card. And yes, something was very, very odd about Gilbert. Maybe he'd find out if he let him talk. "Fine… but this is the last time I'll let you go on and on about it like you always do."

The familiar red in Gilbert's eyes seemed to grow brighter for a moment. "You will?! Thanks a ton, West! You know the story's always awesome when I tell it." He seemed to have his usual ego back, but something was a little off in a the way he said "awesome." Gilbert, losing confidence? That was impossible. "So, I'll start at the very beginning…"

* * *

The year was 1813. In 1806, France had struck the fatal blow to the Holy Roman Empire, resulting in its dissolution. The Confederation of the Rhine was created with the German states left in the Empire's wake. However, the Confederation was more or less yoked to France due to its obligation to supply the country with soldiers. Of course, certain other countries did not approve of this military buildup. Thus began the War of the Sixth Coalition, which included Prussia, Austria (yes, on the same side as Prussia!), Russia, Sweden, and the United Kingdom…

But enough background story. Long story short, those countries were working to get France out of the German states. And naturally, Gilbert was involved on Prussia's side. Today was October 19th, the final day of the war. Gilbert ought to have been fighting with the other soldiers as he had been for the past few days (and kicking a great deal of ass with them, he thought), but now he had... something else to attend to.

The fighting was drawing to a close, with the French forces retreating. However, Gilbert wasn't going to let a certain Frenchman get away. With a little… uh, "information gathering," he'd managed to locate and break into the mansion of one Francis Bonnefoy.

"Yo, France! Come on out and play, you wimpy French bastard!" So shouted Gilbert as he charged through the halls, looking under anything that could be turned over, as if he expected to find his French rival cowering under a table somewhere. But he hadn't found anyone anywhere in the building. The place had been completely deserted, unless someone was hiding in the few rooms he hadn't barged into just yet.

Gilbert had been scanning the area for something he could snatch as a trophy, but all he had seen was art and vases and other things that would be wrecked the minute he set foot outside the mansion. _It's just like that wuss France to have all these fragile, useless things just sitting around and waiting to be smashed_, he mused as he walked down one last corridor. This one was a little different from the others, yet somehow a bit easier to miss. Maybe it was because it wasn't the only place in the mansion that wasn't outrageously gaudy in some way. In fact, it seemed to be largely empty, except for one plain-looking door at the end of the hall. This must have been the only door in the whole place that he hadn't checked behind. So, by process of elimination, France must be here! His smirk widened as he imagined the things he was gonna do to that guy…

"Hey, France! I knooooow you're in here! Here comes the Great Prussia, so brace yourself for humiliation!" He turned the knob. The knob was working, so the door wasn't locked… but it wasn't opening! Why would the knob turn if it wasn't locked?! In a fit of utter frustration, he stepped back and THREW himself into the door with all his might…

…No, the door was not locked. Just very, very stuck. The force sent Prussia hurtling gracelessly to the floor as he burst through the door, face-first. He hit the floor with an embarrassingly loud thud. _Oh, yeah, smooooooth move! Now France'll be _really_ scared… Oh, what the hell! Even my falls are awesome!_ He started to get up, scrambling for his blade… and then stopped.

The room was rather dimly lit, with only a little sunlight coming in from a very small window. From the room's silence, it was clear that France wasn't here. Or was he? There was a small bed in the room, and it seemed to be occupied. Wouldn't it be funny if Gilbert caught France napping? Oh, yeah, it would! He crept closer to the bed, but the figure in the bed was…

…

A child.

The child in question was a little boy, probably not more than nine years old. The bangs of his blonde hair just about reached his eyes but didn't cover them just yet. He was fast asleep… and that seemed rather off. Who could have slept through the gunshots and panic of the retreating French? Who could have slept through Gilbert's well-projected shouting?

Gilbert gingerly nudged the boy's shoulder, as if afraid that just touching him would break him. "Hey," Gilbert said. "Wake up, kid. The house is empty, and the French are gone." There was no response, so he tried again, this time a little louder. "Wake up! The war's over!" …No response. One last try. "WAKE UP! THE GREAT AND MIGHTY PRUSSIA HAS SENT THE FRENCH RUNNING HOME! THEY'RE RUNNING AROUND LIKE CHICKENS WITH THEIR HEADS CUT OFF AS I SPEAK!" …Nothing. Why wasn't he responding to anything? Was he… oh no. Oh _GOD_ no. _Please, please don't let there be a dead kid in France's house. WHAT THE HELL WOULD HE BE DOING WITH A DEAD KID IN HIS HOUSE?!_

He inspected the boy a little closer and was incredibly relieved to find that he was breathing. However, the closer inspection also revealed that the boy had some scars. A long one down his left cheek, a smaller one on the other cheek… Gilbert carefully moved the boy's bangs and discovered a scar on his forehead, too. What in the world happened to this kid? Were there any other, nastier scars on him? The white-haired nation took a closer still look, and-

…Recognition.

It made sense that Gilbert would be able to detect one of his own. This boy was almost definitely a nation, just like him, but which one was he? And why would he be trapped in such a profound sleep? Could he be…? No. That country had been dead for years. And undoubtedly, even with all the trouble that it went through, that nation would have been larger than a child simply just for having been around so long. But there was no mistaking it: this boy was definitely some sort of nation.

There was no way he was going leave this boy in France's hands. These lands were Prussia's territory, now! …Or maybe they were the boy's? Pssht! The Confederation of the Rhine was on the ropes now that Prussia had invaded its vital regions! But enough about that…

"Come on, little guy… You're Prussia's property now." Very, very carefully, he lifted the child out of bed. Nothing seemed to be broken, thankfully. "I'm not gonna let that freak feel up little boys… and sure as hell not one like you." Slowly, he made his way out of the mansion…

* * *

Now it was November 4th, 1813. The Confederation of the Rhine was literally just dissolved earlier that day. And with that, something else would happen…

Gilbert walked into the room in his own mansion where that strange boy had been sleeping ever since he was rescued from France. Yes, he was still fast asleep several weeks later. The man in Prussian blue put his hand on the boy's forehead, brushing a few bangs out of the way. He sighed. Poor thing was still asleep. It bothered him, having a comatose kid in his house like this… sure, he looked peaceful like this, but the way he just kept sleeping… It wasn't like he wanted the kid to die or anything, but just about anything would be better than this. He was, in fact, quite worried about the boy. Would he live? Would he die? Seriously, he'd started biting his nails because of the kid! But no, today was the same as all the others. He simply would not wake up…

But then, as soon as Gilbert turned to leave, he heard a voice. It was almost like a whisper, but quite a bit louder than the average whisper- a "stage whisper," if you will.

"…West…"

He spun around and looked at the child. Did that come from him?

Yes! He was moving! Gilbert felt his pulse pick up. …Yeah, it seemed silly, but he was kind of excited that the kid was alive and awake! And then… and then…

Two blue eyes stared into Gilbert's red ones.

Yes, that was indeed the boy's voice. Still in a whisper, he said, "…Who are you?"

Gilbert felt a big goofy grin spread across his face. _Hey, don't act like an idiot! First impressions are important! You know that more than anyone!_ "Me? I'm the great and mighty nation of Prussia! But _you_… you can just call me Gilbert. Gilbert Beilschmidt." Hmm, that came out odd. Normally, to other nations, he introduced himself as Gilbert Beilschmidt then insisted that they call him Prussia. Oh, well. What was said was said, and he couldn't quite be bothered to take it back. "Now, who are you?"

…No response. Just blinking. And then… "I… I don't… I don't know…"

Wait, what? "You don't know who you are?!" The boy slowly shook his head. Well, _this_ was a problem. Did he at least know that he was a nation, even if he didn't know which one specifically? "Well… do you know _what_ you are?" _Oh, that sure sounded retarded._

Surprisingly, the boy didn't see anything wrong with the question. "…I… I'm only telling you because you just said you were one, too… but… I think I'm a nation, too."

"Do you know which one? Do you remember your other name? Do you remember _anything_?!" Another slow head shake. So, he was alive, but with no memories other than that he was a nation. This… would be difficult.

"Do you know who I am? I… I don't remember anything… Mister… ah… Beilschmidt?"

"Well… I don't know what nation you are, or what your name is. Sorry." Great. He had no information, the kid had no information… what was he going to do, make things up? "Hey, until you remember your name and stuff… I'm going to call you West."

"Why?"

"Because that's what you said right when you woke up. Maybe that's a clue as to who you really are."

"…Okay."

"Now, I've got some things to take care of, so… uh…" At least the kid had the sense to wake up after the negotiations had been made and the Confederation was officially dissolved… hey, maybe that was why he woke up? And… wait a minute, the scars on his face were gone… maybe the dissolution made that happen as well? At any rate, he couldn't just leave him here alone.

And apparently, West wasn't going to let him leave, even if he wanted to. "Wait… please, don't go…"

"What's up?"

"I… I'm…" He held out one hand… one trembling hand.

"What, are you scared?" West nodded. Gilbert took the boy's hand. Who could blame him for being afraid? He'd just woken up in a weird place with no memory whatsoever. When everything seems unfamiliar, being scared makes sense. "Don't be. Besides, you've got me. And…" An idea entered his mind… but could he really go through with it?

…He could. He saw a little resemblance to his younger self in the boy. It must have been the eyes… the shape of their eyes was similar- narrow and serious-looking- but West's eyes lacked the manic light that Gilbert's possessed (aside from being a different color). Well, maybe the eyes would be enough to satisfy anyone looking for evidence. So he continued, "And you're my little brother. Of course I'm going to protect you! Together, we'll find out what nation you are!"

It did seem wrong, lying to an amnesiac who could just as soon regain his memory and remember that he was your enemy, but Gilbert felt like taking a chance. West would probably feel a lot better if he felt that he wasn't going through this alone. And Gilbert would make dead sure that the young nation wasn't all by himself in his quest for his memory. He'd take care of this little country till he was strong enough to fend for himself (although Gilbert felt that that wouldn't be for quite a while). Why not? Better him than France. Besides, the boy was here now, and it didn't seem like he had anywhere else to go.

"You're… my brother?" West's grip on Gilbert's hand tightened. And then…

He smiled!

"Thanks, Brother."


	2. Chapter 2: Recollection

Back in 1945, Gilbert leaned back in his chair. "Ah, yeah… that was pretty sweet, wasn't it? Yeah…" Then he abruptly sat up. "Hey, do you remember anything from before that time now?"

Ludwig shook his head. "No. Not a thing."

"Eh? That's a real shame, isn't it, West? Ahaha! 'Cause I remember when you first remembered your name…" The beer was starting to do the talking for him, but that didn't stop Gilbert from going right into the next section of his story…

* * *

It was June 9, 1815. The Final Act of the Congress of Vienna had just been signed earlier in the day, and one of the many results of the Act was the creation of the German Confederation.

Frederick William III was the monarch in charge now, and Gilbert… wasn't really a fan of him. He had a bit of a reputation for being ineffectual and indecisive. He was definitely no Old Fritz, but Gilbert had learned to put up with it… to the man's face, anyway. At any rate, they were discussing a rather important issue.

"So, that was the boy you found two years ago?"

"Yeah. It's weird, though… he's really quiet for a kid. Most kids his age have more… energy, you know? He just sits and reads in the library. And then he practically gives me a lecture on everything he's read, saying things like, 'well, such-and-such book doesn't say that' or just plain telling me I'm wrong! And he's awfully neat, too. I mean, I just put one thing out of place, and then I come back and find everything lined up in perfect little rows… He's so orderly for someone so young that he's starting to worry me a bit." And by "worry," he meant "bother." Or did he?

His king replied, "Well, it seems you're taking good care of him. Pardon me for saying so, but I never quite expected you to have paternal instincts, Prussia."

"H-hey, wait a minute! He's my BROTHER, not my kid! I just-"

Gilbert was cut short by something pulling on his coattails. He turned around to find the culprit: West. "Big brother… may I talk to you for a moment?"

He gave an impatient sigh. "You could've at least _knocked_, West…" He looked to Frederick for permission, even though he would rather have just left and heard West out just to get it over with.

"You may take your leave."

"Uh… thanks." He walked out of the room with West. "What was so important that you had to walk into a _meeting_, West?"

"I'm sorry. But it didn't sound like you were doing much-"

"WE WERE BUSY!" Gilbert was met with a glare that indicated that he'd made the wrong move. "Sorry, West, but we were."

The little boy- well, he wasn't quite as little as when Gilbert first found him; he'd actually gotten a little taller- continued, "I remember my name now, Brother. And I remember what country I am now, too."

Okay, yes, that _was_ important. "You do?! Tell me!"

"My name is… Ludwig. And I'm the German Confederation."

"Really? It's great that you remember, West! And-" …Wait a minute. How could he "remember" that he was the German Confederation?! It was _just_ formed! And he was awake for it!

"Is something wrong, Brother?"

"…The German Confederation was formed _today_. Do you remember what you actually _were_?"

"I'm the German Confederation. That's all I know. And why are you still calling me West? I just told you my name…"

Well, that was a lost cause. "At least you know who you are now, eh? I'm glad!" He really was. "But it doesn't matter what you're calling yourself today. You're always gonna be little _bruder_ West to me!" To punctuate the statement, he reached out and ruffled West's (or, as it was now, Ludwig's) hair.

"H-hey! Brotherrrrr! Don't do thaaaaat!" Gilbert chuckled a little as Ludwig frantically tried to straighten his hair out. He even tried pushing his bangs back into the look that would one day be his signature hairstyle, but they didn't stay up, of course.

"Aw, come on, lighten up a little. You're a kid; you're allowed to have messy hair. Besides, I was just joking around with you."

Having finally gotten his golden locks back into place, Ludwig gave a nervous smile. "I-I know, Brother. But your hair is too messy, even for someone older." Oh come on, _this_ again? "Now _I'm_ joking with _you_, big brother."

"Very funny, West." Gilbert bent down to give his little brother a hug. "Now, I've got to get back to work. I'll come check on you later, okay?"

"…Okay. I'll be in the library, like always." _Big brother is kind of warm when he wants to be_, Ludwig added in his mind…


	3. Chapter 3: Withstanding the Pain

"Now wasn't that sweet? I sure thought it was!" Gilbert's eyes had not left his brother's face for quite some time, as if he was searching for even so much as a trace of the child from long ago. "You know, you wouldn't think so, looking at you now… but you used to be a real sickly little kid, you know that? Those bastards kept fighting and you kept getting really, really sick." Never mind that he was often one of those "fighting bastards." "1848 was a really bad year for you, what with the revolutions. You'd spend entire days in bed and I'd always have to run in to give you a shoulder to lean on. Imagine that! You, leaning on me… Ahaha…" Ludwig couldn't really deny that he'd relied on his brother whenever turmoil in his country caused him to get sick, even though it embarrassed him a little. Gilbert didn't give him a chance to speak before he continued his story. "There was this one time, in 1866… you know, that was one of the few moments with you that nearly scared me half to death. That was the worst it had been up to that point."

"Wait, it _did_ scare you?!"

"Of course it did! I didn't want you _dying_ on me or anything! You were really, really sick!"

…_He really did care for me back then_, thought Ludwig as Gilbert began the next section.

* * *

The year was 1866. It was early in the morning, and Gilbert was getting dressed for another day of wiping the floor with that pansy aristocrat Roderich. The person who could take credit for starting the Austro-Prussian War was Bismarck, the prime minister of Prussia. Gilbert kind of liked this Bismarck guy. Anyone who gave him a free opportunity to pick on the Austrians earned points in his book, but Bismarck… there was something special about him. Of course, no one could beat Old Fritz, but he really was something, setting up the war like this.

Ludwig was awake, too, sitting on Gilbert's bed and watching him intently. He had grown a bit; he now appeared to be around twelve years old. Even though he wasn't very childlike at all, he could still wake up early in a way only a child could. However, he hadn't been feeling well since the start of the war. The struggles caused him varying degrees of pain and occasional spikes of fever, with other symptoms coming and going almost at random.

After Gilbert had finally gotten his pants on, Ludwig spoke up. "Another battle today, brother?"

"Of course! Why do you think I'm up so early? This is war, and it never ends! Haha!" Or at least it seemed that way. Remembering something, Gilbert sat down next to his brother. "Hey, West, do you feel any better today?" Ludwig slowly shook his head. "Still sore?" The boy nodded and Gilbert sighed. He put his hand on his brother's forehead. It was slightly warm… hopefully his symptoms wouldn't get too bad today. "Hang in there, West. I'll cut down these Austrian bast- er, I'll end this war _FAST_ and make it all better for you." Ludwig had an annoying habit of correcting him whenever he swore, so he had to watch his mouth around him.

"Will winning the war really make the pain go away?"

Putting a hand on his brother's shoulder, Gilbert replied, "Well, it would help, wouldn't it?" Ludwig smiled weakly in response and shifted around a little where he sat.

Satisfied that the boy seemed to be doing alright, the older nation got up to fetch his shirt. He was halfway there when he heard a noise. He turned around to find that the source of the sound was his brother. He was no longer sitting upright as he was a few moment ago; he was now hunched over, almost curled up. Gilbert quickly returned to Ludwig's side, a spark of panic threatening to break through. "Hey, did that noise come from you?" No response. "Are you alright?" Still nothing. He then noticed that the boy was taking rather rapid breaths. "West? What are you doing?!" Ludwig squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He simply refused to tell his brother what was going on. "Stop that! Stop being so stoic! Tell me what's going on!" The panic bubbles were rising to the surface now. The great and mighty Gilbert Beilschmidt was being laid low by a child with a fever. Fantastic.

"ANSWER ME!"

Ludwig must have heard the alarm in Gilbert's voice, for he slowly picked up his head to look at his older brother and opened his eyes, which shined with unshed tears. At last, he whispered, "…It hurts, Brother…"

The little whisper set off a big reaction from the older brother. Nearly shouting in the poor boy's face, Gilbert ranted, "Why didn't you just say so?! Why do you think you have to be so damn stoic?! You're just a kid-"

"LANGUAGE!" Ludwig shouted at a volume that was almost unreasonably loud compared to how he'd been talking before. Not even horrible pain could stop him from trying to keep Gilbert in line (as much as a little brother could, anyway). He was a regular commander, even back then. He quickly simmered down though. "I-I'm sorry, Brother… I'm just trying to be strong like you." One tear rolled down his right cheek.

"Well, you don't have to be, so relax a bit! Tensing up is just going to make it hurt worse!"

Suddenly, Ludwig grabbed his brother's shoulders. It was like a hug, except that people don't typically hold on for dear life when hugging. "Brother, I… I feel dizzy… I… I think I'm going to be sick…" He began to lean back a little, but his nails dug into Gilbert's bare shoulders.

"STOP! STOP IT ALREADY! Just calm down and take some breaths already! You're dizzy because you're not breathing right!" Again, almost unconsciously, his hand went to Ludwig's forehead. He was completely unsurprised to find that his brother was burning up. Ludwig leaned forward and collapsed against him, water works set to full power.

"B-Brother… make it stop… _please_ m-make it _stop_…"

Gilbert was one step away from losing his head himself, but he decided to change tactics and keep his cool for a moment. What could you say to a child that asks you to make their pain stop, even if you can't directly do anything about it? "West… look at me." The boy did, revealing the small rivers of tears surging down his face. Wiping some tears away, Gilbert said, "Just calm down. If you keep acting up like this, you're probably going to pass out or something."

"I-I'm sorry…"

"What are you apologizing for?! You're allowed to feel pain! I get hurt all the time, so what's the big deal?!" So much for keeping his cool…

"I should be stronger…"

Gilbert sighed, exasperated. "Cut it out, West. Just relax and hang in there. I'm going to go out there, and I'm going to put an end to all this! So, if I do that for you, will you just hang in there for me?" Wait, was he begging the kid to calm down? Of all the things he could be reduced to…

"…Okay." Ludwig tried to make himself comfortable but was clearly having some difficulty doing so. Gilbert couldn't bring himself to remind the boy that he had his own room to rest in. "Be careful out there, brother."

Out there? …Yes, that was where Gilbert belonged. He was a warrior at heart. Going out there and mowing down the Austrians would clear his head. "Oh, come on! I don't even need to worry about the enemy. They're all led by someone who can barely fight his way out of a handkerchief. This is _ME_ we're talking about here! They don't stand a chance! When I'm done here, the only pains you'll be feeling are growing pains!"

Ludwig picked his head up for the last sentence, then promptly flopped back down again. "…Really? I'll grow…?" The nation that would soon become the North German Confederation paused to wonder about these "growing pains," then decided to give it a rest and see what happened to him after the war.

"Don't worry about it. We'll sort _that_ out at another time. But now, I've got a job to do! And I'm gonna do it AWESOMELY!" Oh yes. That Austrian bastard was _really_ gonna get it this time. This whole morning had been a nightmare for all parties involved. The only way to make it stop like little West wanted was to bring the war to a swift end, preferably with Roderich under Gilbert's heel. Kicking that pansy's ass was going to be an absolute pleasure today…


	4. Chapter 4: On the Way Up

"Well, that was a sad part. But after this, we get to some pretty AWESOME parts! Once you got over your nasty bug, you were on your way up, West!"

"You're talking about the German Empire, aren't you?"

"You bet I am! Those times were the BEST!" And so Gilbert began yet another section of history…

* * *

The year was 1870, and Prussia found itself in yet another war- this time, the Franco-Prussian War. Gilbert thought that Bismarck had _really_ outdone himself this time! He started the war by _provoking_ the French! They'd just about dropped everything to declare war once that "adjusted" Ems Dispatch was released. Bismarck had scored a ton of points with just that action. It took _guts_ to even attempt something like this. First he gave Gilbert the opportunity to stomp on Austria, and now this business with France… This was a man Gilbert was very much convinced to respect. He still was no Old Fritz, but manipulations like these just screamed AWESOME.

The scene was very similar to how it was four years ago, during the Austro-Prussian War: Gilbert was getting dressed, and Ludwig was sitting on his brother's bed, watching him prepare, and listening to him ramble about how thoroughly those French were going to be smashed. The most prominent difference between the two scenes had to be Ludwig himself. Now representing the North German Confederacy, he was about fifteen years old physically. This war wasn't hurting him anywhere near as much as the previous one did, but he still did feel a little sick every once in a while.

"…And that's why I'm going to rule the battlefield like no one's ever seen before!" Gilbert concluded a speech that Ludwig hadn't been paying attention to. He had something a little more important on his mind.

"I'd like to be able to fight next to you someday, brother." It seemed that, every time conflict rolled around, he would be in the same position: curled up in bed and sick as a dog while big brother did all the fighting. He was tired of having to sit out every war and do nothing. _Next time, I won't tell him that I'm not feeling well. If he doesn't think I'll go down if someone looks at me sideways, he'll take me along, and I'll finally be able to do something. …It probably won't be that easy, though…_

Gilbert caught Ludwig's statement in the middle of another rant of his. "Hm?" He turned to look at his brother. He was still a little skinny-looking, but he was undoubtedly stronger than he was a few years ago. He had actually started training quite some time before the war broke out. Yes, if he kept getting stronger at this rate, he would probably be able to join him on the battlefield sometime soon. "That doesn't sound like a bad idea, West! I'd love it if you'd come kick some ass with me!" Ludwig shot him a glare but otherwise raised no comment about the mild profanity. "But would you really be able to do it? You're not really all that strong yet, so-"

"But I WILL be! I'm going to get strong, so I CA-" Before Ludwig could say the word "can," something bizarre happened. A noise happened. A nearly indescribable noise happened… _to his voice._ His hands swiftly went over his mouth, as if a toad had just jumped out of it and he didn't want any more to follow the leader. He had a feeling he knew what had just happened. He braced himself for the teasing that was bound to occur in _drei, zwei, eins_…

"What was that?!" It slowly sank into Gilbert's head that he just heard his brother's voice crack. For some reason, it struck him as very, very funny and gave him an idea to boot. "I'm sorry, West? Could you pleeeaaase say that again?" His signature smirk was starting to make itself seen. Ludwig remained with his hands clapped over his mouth, determined not to give a repeat performance and glaring daggers at his brother. "Ha ha, West! You're growing up, kid! …I don't think I ever told you much about this, did I? Well, I'll start by telling-"

Okay, this was beyond humiliating. Not wanting to give his brother the satisfaction of hearing him squeak again and not feeling terribly confident in his ability to give his brother a much-needed punch to the face, Ludwig grabbed a pillow and chucked it at Gilbert with as much force as he could. The soft projectile hit the older nation square in the face, surprising him greatly.

"Wha- HEY! Those things HURT when you throw them like that!" It didn't really hurt all that much, but it was really more the element of surprise that knocked Gilbert off his high horse. "Geez. I never knew you could throw that hard." Well, whether it hurt or not, he had to admit that he was a little impressed by the younger nation's new strength. It seemed that the training was actually starting to have a payoff. Also, it took _guts_ to throw anything at the great and mighty Prussia, even if it was just a pillow. That was good for a few extra points for his little brother (and _only_ his little brother), right there. Ludwig, however, continued giving his brother his best "there-will-be-a-dead-rodent-under-your-pillow-tonight" look. (Not that he'd ever touch a dead rodent, much less put it under someone's pillow. Too messy.) But on the inside, he was gloating about the successful surprise attack. Gilbert rubbed his nose where the pillow had smacked him. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry for teasing you about the voice cracking. But I am serious about you joining me on the battlefield someday. If one badass brother can make a day of crushing the Austrians and the French… imagine what BOTH of us could do!"

That picked Ludwig's spirits up right away. His hands finally came away from his mouth, and he nodded vigorously, nearly saying "yes" but catching himself before he repeated the whole episode. Gilbert continued, "I'm going to train you, and you're going to be the one of the most powerful nations around by the time I'm through with you! Got that?" More nodding. So the deal was made. Hopefully, it wouldn't be long before Ludwig could fight alongside his powerful brother at last…

* * *

It was January 18, 1871- an incredible day for Ludwig. Soon, he would be revealed to the world as the German Empire, possibly getting to see other nations than his brother…

The proclamation of the Empire was in Versailles- specifically, the Hall of Mirrors. Gilbert was outside of that very room giving his brother a pep talk before they went inside for the actual proclamation. "Are you ready, West?" He took a moment to look the other nation over. He had grown to be quite a fine young man. Appearing to be about seventeen or eighteen, Ludwig was now just about as tall as his older brother, if not actually taller. He was also more muscularly built than his brother, albeit not quite to the same extent as he was in the present. The wonder that had shone in his eyes as a child had been replaced with a kind of icy seriousness. The only thing about him that seemed even a little childlike was his bangs, and even those vestiges of his childhood would soon be pushed back so that they wouldn't get in the way during combat. _He'd probably have girls throwing themselves at him if he wasn't such a stick in the mud,_ Gilbert thought. Despite that, he felt proud, seeing how his little brother had grown up. It seemed like it was only yesterday that the strong nation before him was just a small, frail child.

Ludwig paused to consider his answer before he spoke. "…I think I'm ready. Well, I am a little nervous about appearing in front of all those people, but I'll be fine. Nerves don't mean anything, really." His discipline was starting to show. Being nervous was a lousy excuse to not do something in his book.

"That's the spirit, West! You just come on out with me, and they'll know the deal's been sealed! The German Empire will be official!"

"But what if there are other nations? They're going to want to know where I came from and why I just suddenly appeared."

Gilbert chuckled at the thought. "Pssht! If they give you any trouble over stupid little details, I'll field 'em for you! They should know better than to screw with me over those kinds of things, so maybe they'll know not to bug you about it, either."

It was almost time to enter, but Ludwig had one final question before his big moment. "Brother… we'll be returning to the battlefield after this, won't we?"

"Of course! It's not like we can just go home after this, whether we've got miles of paperwork or not!" The past few months had been a bit of a mess for the German brothers. Gilbert had not only stepped up Ludwig's training, but had also started dragging him onto the battlefield to test him out. The extra training was no problem, for Ludwig had adapted to the new, more intense schedule fairly quickly. The real source of the mess was the growth spurts that seemed to occur nearly at random but really might have been linked to certain notable victories in the war. That was how he had aged two or three years in a few months. Both brothers would be shocked at the changes when they happened, and then they'd have to frantically rummage around for new clothes that would fit the rapidly growing nation. Right now, Ludwig happened to be wearing Gilbert's hand-me-downs, but he was worried that soon he wouldn't even be able to fit into those at this rate.

And as for the war itself… well, certain others in the army had attempted to give Gilbert some trouble for dragging a child onto the battlefield, but their attempts to dissuade him failed spectacularly. Some enemies would start mocking Gilbert for his decision, jeering that the Prussian army was so desperate that it was pulling new soldiers out of the cradle, but that didn't last long, of course. Once Ludwig started to grow up, those particular taunts disappeared on their own (and his older brother's punishment for the hecklers undoubtedly helped). It had been weeks and weeks of "watch and repeat" amongst other things, but Ludwig felt that his older brother was a good teacher… when it came to the battlefield, at least. However, Ludwig worried that he might not have been the best student to his brother's teachings.

As if he had read his little brother's mind, Gilbert continued, "Hey, West… are you worried about how you're doing out there?"

Ludwig wasn't sure how to respond. If he said yes- the truth- he might have been considered weak, but no seemed an even more absurd answer. "A little, Brother. Why do you ask?"

Then Gilbert gave his brother one of the biggest surprises of his life. He looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Well, quit worrying! Let me tell you something: you're doing great out there. I didn't think you'd get that accurate with a gun that fast. Keep it up!"

The fair-haired nation's blue eyes practically bugged out of his head. He was receiving a compliment on his battle prowess… from GILBERT?! "R-really…?" Ludwig couldn't suspend his disbelief.

"What do you mean, 'really?!' Take a good look at yourself, West! You're strong now! Believe it or not, I'd say you're actually a competent soldier now! And you know I don't lie about how good people are at fighting! Your training _paid off_, _bruder_! In the next war, you're not even going to be able to say no to fighting with me! We'll tear up the battlefields, you and I! Prussia and Germany! Gilbert Beilschmidt the Great and his awesome little brother, Ludwig! How's that sound, huh?"

Ludwig beamed on the inside, happy to have passed his brother's trials and to have finally been recognized as a true soldier by him, but he still couldn't believe his ears. "I'm… a competent soldier now?"

"If you didn't hear me the first time, I'm not repeating myself."

"Th-thank you, Brother…" For Ludwig, this was one of the highest honors.

"Hey, wait, don't get all embarrassed! They won't want to see your face all red there! I know you can suck something like that up, so do it! And don't get too cocky or complacent just because _I_ gave you a compliment! That's the first mistake everyone makes when they get their praise."

Ludwig tried to will the blood away from his face and didn't really succeed. "I'll do my best. Some day, I want to fight to my fullest capacity, and I want you to see it when-"

Someone poked their head out through the doorway of the Hall. "Pardon me, _Herr_ Beilschmidt, but both you and your brother are needed."

"Wait a minute! There's more than one Beilschmidt here! My brother has my awesome last name too, you know!" The person went back in the room and closed the door, but Gilbert didn't take into account whether he'd been insulting or not. "Well, West, that's our cue. Let's go show 'em what we're made of!" He whispered one last thing to his brother before the two of them went inside. "You can do it, West. I know you can. We'll take 'em all on together."


	5. Chapter 5: Breakdown

"And then World War I came around and then the German Empire got destroyed and my AWESOME Prussia got wrecked too and then your psychopath boss stepped in and screwed everything up and then we had ANOTHER World War and then my AWESOME Prussia got destroyed for real this time and then the Allies decided to carve up your country and here we are. Whew." Gilbert chugged about the last third of his drink, setting the glass down on the table with a loud THUD.

Ludwig waited for Gilbert to continue, but there was nothing but silence after the bizarre summarization. "What was that for just now? You didn't even finish."

Gilbert had apparently started sulking. "I'm not going to. It all got worse from there."

Well, Ludwig couldn't exactly deny that. But his brother was wrong on one point. "But you ended at the beginning of the German Empire. From that point until World War I… those were good times, weren't they?"

The older nation nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, they were. We were part of a great world power and industry was booming and everything! Heh heh…" Gilbert rested his chin on his hand. For a few minutes, no one spoke. Suddenly, he got up, walked over to his younger brother, and said:

"When did you get so big?"

Gilbert touched his hands to the ends of Ludwig's broad shoulders, then brought his hands back to his own shoulders to compare. The slight gap he found between the hastily made measurements caused an outburst from out of nowhere. "WHEN DID YOU GET BIGGER THAN ME?!" As if fixated on that section of Ludwig's body, he put his hands on his brother's shoulders again. "I remember when you were so small that I could actually pick you up and _carry_ _you around!_ _And you wouldn't mind, because I was just your big brother being nice to you!_ What happened? _What happened?!_"

"Brother, what are you going on about?!" Gilbert was starting to lose control. Normally, his drunken state wasn't terribly different from his sober state- he was just more likely to deliberately and directly offend someone or get arrested for indecent exposure- but there were those rare times where he would suddenly become outrageously moody. It goes without saying that this was one of those times.

Gilbert brought himself closer to Ludwig. The younger brother could see that his older brother's eyes were actually getting teary. Without warning, the former nation whispered in his ear, "I miss my little brother."

"What are you talking about…? I'm right here."

The older brother shook his head. "Not since you got so big. When World War I rolled around and you were all grown up… there was no stopping you, was there? You were out there, being a soldier, just like big brother was… we actually fought side-by-side, and I didn't even have to guide you! You put all the stuff you learned during the Franco-Prussian War to use, all by yourself! It was AMAZING, the two of us kicking ass like that together! I guess you learned pretty well, huh? If you were gonna follow in anyone's footsteps, you might as well have followed in my awesome ones! …But I don't know. You just stopped acting like my little brother one day. I mean, you always got a little grumpy at me when I left my stuff in piles or something silly like that, but you suddenly started ordering me around and telling me to clean up or don't say this or don't do that! _WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?!_"

Ludwig was at a complete loss for words. Why hadn't his brother told him about his feelings sooner? Gilbert probably just had the same problem that his little brother did: he didn't handle sentimental situations well. From the looks of it, it might even have been possible that he was even _worse_ at coping with these sorts of things. "Gilbert, I…"

"You what?" Suddenly, Gilbert changed the subject. Another tense whisper… "What's going to happen to us? What's going to happen, now that they're carving up the country like some kind of meat? What's going to happen, now that my beloved Prussia is completely GONE?!" Ludwig had no response to that. "I mean, I worked out a little deal with Ivan, and I think I might be holing up in his section for a bit, because that English snob and that little American brat just out-and-out turned me down, and there's no way in hell I'm going to ask that pervert France for anything… and besides, Russia was my ally before. Maybe-"

Ludwig couldn't believe his ears. "Wait, wait, wait! Did you just say you made a deal with IVAN?!" Gilbert nodded. "You're making a deal with that devil?! The Ivan you made a deal with is most likely quite different from the Ivan that gave you support during the War of the Sixth Coalition. Nearly everyone fears him now to some extent, and he's very-"

Gilbert wasn't about to hear any more on that subject, though. "Too bad! Everything's been set up already! I guess I'm one with Russia now, huh? Hahaha!" Ludwig winced at the phrase "one with Russia." His brother was laughing, but there were tears streaming down his cheeks. This was quite literally the most emotional he had ever seen Gilbert get over anything. Not even when his younger brother was sick or in pain did he lose his cool this severely.

"Ahaha… West… I don't think I… I can't… I can't stop…"

Gilbert almost collapsed onto Ludwig, who was stuck having to hold him up, as it didn't seem that he was able to do the task himself. He picked his head up, brushed away some tears with a trembling hand, and continued with a rather forced-sounding laugh, "West… I don't feel so hot today…" It was disturbing to Ludwig, seeing his brother laugh and cry at the same time like that. ESPECIALLY the crying. Under no normal circumstances would Gilbert melt down like this. The man who seemed to be one step away from total mental collapse sniffled and said in an unusually shaky voice, "Ya see, West? There's all the problems, right there… my nation's gone, and soon we're gonna be separated. That's why I wanted to talk about my little _bruder_ and our awesome history one last time. Is that so wrong? _IS THAT SO WRONG?!_"

"B-brother…" Ludwig felt tears coming to his own eyes. So that was the source of the odd behavior… he knew better than anyone that his older brother could be a kind older brother when the time called for it, regardless of what a jerk he was to just about everyone. He quickly shifted his attention to something else so that he wouldn't end up a crying mess, too. "…Wait a minute! Did you drink all that beer over there?!" Lo and behold, there were quite a few more empty beer bottles on the table than there were at the start of the evening. Furthermore, the sun was completely gone and the bugs were starting to come out in full force.

"Yeah, maybe I did! So? Can't a man drown his sorrows without people hollering at him for it?!"

"I think it's about high time we headed inside. You can stay here for the night, since I'm not quite able to drive you home at this point and I'm _definitely_ not letting you touch a car in this state."

"Fine… fine… Let's call it a day, West…" Leaning on Ludwig's shoulders, Gilbert let his little brother walk him to the door of the house. He abruptly stopped after a few steps, jerking Ludwig back.

"What was that for?!"

A bizarre, deranged-looking grin made its way across Gilbert's face. He had one last thing to say before he finally went down. "I can't believe _you're_ the one taking care of _me_ after all this time. When did our roles get switched up? When did you suddenly become the responsible one that took care of everything? _WHEN DID YOU BECOME THE BIG BROTHER?!_" To conclude the terrifying breakdown, Gilbert suddenly lost his mind, right there, over Ludwig's shoulders. He started laughing. First quietly, then louder. MUCH louder. His unhinged, crazy cackling sounded like it could be heard all around the neighborhood. And then the tears began flowing again. It became clear to Ludwig that trying to talk to his brother was a lost cause now, but he tried to calm him down anyway.

"Gilbert… just calm down. We're heading inside." To his credit, Gilbert had asked a very good question. When did the roles get reversed? What had changed between them? Ludwig decided that it didn't matter at this moment. Right now, his priority was taking care of his mad brother, whose manic laughter seemed to hang in the air long after the door had been shut…

_That's just how it is, _bruder._ It's my turn to take care of you when you need it most, now._


	6. Epilogue: The Fall of the Wall

It was November 9th, 1989.

Germany- or simply Ludwig, since he was uncertain about what would happen to his country after an event of this magnitude- walked towards the infamous Berlin Wall, sledgehammer in tow. There were already some people hammering at the Wall, all looking to get their own little piece of history. While he was interested in having a piece of the Wall around as a historical reminder, he had his own reasons for hammering it down. It had recently occurred to him that he had not seen his brother since 1961, when construction of the Wall began (although there had been quite a few visits from him before that point that had alleviated the fears of both brothers regarding each other's fates at the time). It had been almost thirty years, and Ludwig hadn't heard even so much as a whisper regarding a certain Gilbert Beilschmidt. Even though he had his own problems to work with, his mind would occasionally wander to the subject of his older brother. Since East Germany was held in Russia's iron grip, he felt pretty sure that Ivan was working overtime to keep any details under wraps. The decades-long silence between the brothers was all the more of a reason to tear down the Wall. Even if all he would find was that his brother had disappeared at last after having his nation completely dissolved from underneath him, he would at least feel better for having actual, updated information. And so, Ludwig set out on his mission.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Wall, Prussia- or East Germany- or Gilbert- or whatever he would be at the end of this whole fiasco- felt the shadow of doubt pulling at every part of his mind. He wanted a piece of the Wall just as much as the next guy, but could he really raise a hammer to what might have been the only thing keeping him alive? Ivan might have been as much of a complete bastard as Ludwig had warned him about all those years ago, but at least he gave Gilbert a place to attach himself to now that his beloved Prussia was gone. Of course, in his mind, he would always be Prussia the Great, Prussia the Awesome, Prussia the Not-Destroyed-By-Those-Idiot-Allies, but he was spared from death as East Germany. He had never feared death before, but now the end seemed to be right in front of him- sometimes standing and waiting for him, sometimes beckoning him, sometimes laughing at him, and other times making obscene gestures and funny faces at him. What was going to happen when there was no West to call his brother, and most importantly, when there was no East left for him to cling to? As much as he wanted to see his _Bruder_ West one last time, his self-preservation instinct was winning him over. Gilbert felt his grip on his hammer loosen as Ludwig's grip on his own hammer became ever tighter.

The first thing Ludwig noticed was _the people_. There was a veritable flood of people flowing from East to West. Everywhere you looked, there was movement. The border guards had all just about given up trying to maintain order. Yet there was an undeniably celebratory atmosphere to the chaos. The air was filled with the cheers and tears of joy of both the East and West Germans as friends and family reunited and people escaped into West Germany with no apparent fear of reprisal. Even Ludwig, ever the stoic, couldn't help but crack a smile. His pulse quickened with the excitement around him, and his heart beat faster still as he drew closer to the Wall (a task significantly easier said than done).

Just before he was going to take his first swing, he noticed an unusual break in the crowd some distance away. He turned his head to look at what might have caused the opening… and then briefly considered getting his eyes checked. He saw a man in a deep blue suit, but was his hair really _that_ white? Yes, white and rather familiarly tousled, just like-

There was no mistaking it.

There was only one person in the world with eyes like that. The two men locked eyes, Ludwig's blues staring into Gilbert's reds. He heard the enthusiastic cry:

"_Guten abend, bruder_!"

And then another group of escapees pooled into the gap, separating the brothers behind a wall of people. They looked long and hard for each other, but neither brother would see the other again for the rest of the night.

* * *

Now it was October 4th, 1990.

Yesterday was the official reunification of Germany. Of course, Italy had come over to celebrate (it practically went without saying that the two had stayed in touch after the war), and naturally, good old German beer was involved. The obvious result was that they'd both ended up a little- okay, very- smashed. Italy was still dead asleep upstairs, and Ludwig might have still been sleeping as well if something hadn't been bothering him. It was far more thinking than he wanted to do on a nasty mother of a hangover, but he almost couldn't help it. Even while he was knocking back a few last night, he had a feeling that something was missing. The answer hadn't come to him till this morning. Whenever he went out for a drink to celebrate something, his brother was always with him- until now.

Ludwig had no more information than what he had started with just slightly less than a year ago. If anything, he was in an even worse position than he was before. He knew he had seen Gilbert when the Wall fell. He even heard his brother call out to him. And yet he hadn't seen him since that day. Not when the wall was officially dismantled in June; and not even when East Germany adopted West German currency and border controls were lifted in July. However, now that the documentation was filed and East and West were merged... what had happened to his brother? He probably would have shown up to party yesterday, if only just to freeload Ludwig's beer and for a place to crash after he inevitably got plastered.

Ludwig took Gilbert's absence as a bad sign. Now that there was no longer an East Germany, did the man that had shifted his allegiances to become the face of that country disappear as well? Gilbert Beilschmidt, born... well, a very, very long time ago, maybe around 1221 or so, maybe even earlier. At any rate, the date of his death was more definite: 12:00 AM on October 3rd, 1990. (At least he had lived a long life.) The thought of having missed the chance to at least say goodbye to his brother nearly killed Ludwig from the inside (or was that the splitting hangover headache?). He didn't even get to fill in the almost three-decade-long gap, so it was more like Gilbert had died in 1961 with the construction of the Wall. Ludwig put his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the sense of loss despite his admittedly rather feeble attempts to hold his feelings back.

Mere moments later, the doorbell rang, followed by a series of knocks. Puzzled at who would possibly be looking for him at a time like this, Ludwig went to investigate. The knocking became louder and more insistent as he approached. Whoever was knocking on a hungover person's door like this either had no heart or had incredibly urgent business. He opened the door, and he was bowled over by what he saw.

"**WEST!"**

The no-longer-so-mysterious figure tackled Ludwig, knocking him away from the door and nearly sending him to the floor. Too stunned to react coherently, he stared at the man squeezing him like an orange for what felt like an eternity before sputtering out a name:

"Gil... Gilbert?"

"You better believe it, West!"

The brothers exchanged a tight bro-hug for the first time in ages. "You're alive!" Ludwig felt like his head had been instantly cleared… or as much as last night's consequences would have allowed, anyway. "I can't believe it... I was so sure that you wouldn't survive the reunification."

"Well... yeah, it worried me a bit, too. But I'm just too awesome to die!"

Ludwig squirmed a little to try and get to a more comfortable space out of his brother's arms. "Where were you yesterday? In fact… where have you been since I saw you at the Wall?"

Gilbert finally let Ludwig go. "You saw me? Did you hear me, too?"

"Yes and yes. You were pretty loud."

"Not nearly as loud as you can be, _bruder_! Well, anyway… I ended up getting stuck in East Germany to watch the higher-ups deal with all the paperwork. I tried to hide out in West Germany after I saw you, but that creepy bastard Ivan found me and dragged me back. Seriously, I thought he was gonna shove that faucet he always carries around up my ass, with the way he was going on about me being a 'naughty bird, escaping from the cage' or some crap like that." Did he just shudder? Then again, it was perfectly understandable for even Gilbert to shudder at the thought of being manhandled by Ivan. "And as for why I didn't stop by yesterday… take a good look at me."

Ludwig studied his brother carefully. What would have changed about him that would have left him incapacitated for a whole day? Was he taller? Shorter? Thinner? Fatter? Did he finally get his hair to stop looking like a bird's nest? …The hair! The change was significantly more obvious than the younger German anticipated. And not too far from the hair… the eyes!

Gilbert's signature white hair had become blonde, and his uniquely red eyes had turned blue like Ludwig's own.

"Gilbert! What did you do to your hair?! And your eyes… why are they a different color, too? And what does any of this have to do with you not coming by yesterday? Were you reinventing your image all day?"

The elder brother shook his head. "Pssht. It's not like I had a say in the matter. Here's what happened: I woke up in my hotel room, took one look in a mirror, and practically _died_. I mean, I _really_ freaked out. I thought Ivan pulled a cruel prank on me as his sick idea of a parting 'gift.' I spent just about the entire day in the shower trying to wash out hair dye that wasn't real and nearly poking my eyes out trying to get rid of colored contacts that weren't there. I _miss_ my eyes, man! No one else ever had red eyes! Okay, maybe I can live without people saying I look like an old man because of the white hair, but couldn't my eyes at least have been spared? There wasn't anything like 'em and that made 'em awesome, and now they're just **gone.** _Damn._"

"But why do you think it happened? Do you think it had anything to do with the reunification?"

"I'm pretty sure that's why. My eyes and hair are like yours because we're now representing the same country. Or something. But why couldn't _you_ have gotten _my_ hair and eyes instead if that was the case? This whole thing is just screwed up."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now, is there? I'm just glad to see you again. I was worried sick about you." Ludwig spoke the truth; his reunion with Gilbert put some of his worst worries to rest.

Gilbert suddenly clung to Ludwig again. "Me too, West! _Me too!_" Then he became oddly sentimental. "Hey, speaking of West... I don't care if Germany is split or united or sent to the moon or what- you're always gonna be little _bruder_ West to me! You're always gonna be that little kid I found in a coma one day many, many years ago… the little brother I spent more than a century raising and protecting. I was worried about _you_ too when we were separated for all that time, you know."

"And you'll always be big brother Prussia to me- the same one who found me as a small child and raised me into what I am today."

"Ha! I couldn't possibly have had _that_ much of an impact on you, or you wouldn't be so uptight." Gilbert was secretly quite flattered, but he kept his true feelings hidden. "Oh, right, and before I forget… I'm here because I'm moving in with you, West! …Just wait here a minute!" He ran out the door and then came back a few moments later with a yellow bird in his hand. "I can't forget this guy-"

He was cut off by a stunned and outraged Ludwig. "You're going to do **WHAT?!**"

"I'm going to move in with you! You should've seen this coming. It's not like I've got another country to call home anymore."

Ludwig hated being shaken by sudden surprises like this. "You should have at least given me some notice! You can't just walk in and declare that you're moving in! I have to get things ready, clean up the guest room, go shopping for food for another person, make room for all the boxes, find a place for your bird where the dogs can't get to it, take care of-"

He was interrupted by another voice floating in from elsewhere. "Germany? Where are you, ve~? My head hurts and I can't see you."

"I'm over here, near the door, Italy." Ludwig had tried to break Italy's habit of constantly referring to him by his country name, but nothing worked, so the country names stuck. Besides, Italy wasn't recently in danger of having his name changed.

Italy peeked in from behind a corner. He was naked, but conveniently obscured by said corner. "Good morning, Germany-" He abruptly stopped when he saw Gilbert. "Hey! Your brother's back! Or did I really drink that much last night...?"

"Nope! This is me, Italy! In the flesh! You're not seeing things." For some reason, Gilbert sniffed at the air. "I smell BEER! Geez, did you guys have a mini-Oktoberfest in here or something? Is there even any left?"

Even though Ludwig wanted to get Italy in line, he answered his brother's question first. "I don't think we went through all of it. There should still be some in the fridge." All the dishes and glasses were going to be a nightmare to wash…

Gilbert promptly opened the fridge and rummaged around till he got his beer. "Ah, yeah! This is the stuff!"

Ludwig gave an irritable sigh. "You're going to get drunk in the morning?"

"Why the hell not? I think I deserve a drink after all I've been through." Gilbert smirked as an idea entered his mind. "Speaking of which... why don't we go out to that old back porch of yours, West? I can't think of any better place for you guys to sit back and listen to the travails of Prussia the Great under the oppressive Russian fists!" It was the very same porch that the two brothers had sat on as they reminisced some 40-odd years ago, when Germany was first divided amongst the Allies. "Come on, grab a hair of the dog that bit ya and come outside."

Ludwig shook his head. "I'll pass on the drink, but I would like to hear what happened during the time you were gone." He then turned to Italy. "...And Italy needs to put some clothes on. You can be forgiven for forgetting today, but really... just go get dressed."

"Will do, Germany!" But Italy didn't leave just yet. He had an important question for Gilbert. "Um, hey... what am I going to call Germany's brother?"

Gilbert's smirk widened into an almost devilish toothy grin. "It doesn't matter what time period it is, or what country I'm in… I'm always going to be Prussia! And don't you forget it!"

Thus ends the historic tale of Ludwig and Gilbert Beilschmidt, a saga reaching back hundreds of years...


End file.
